‘You don’t get a choice.’ Mr Marshall speaks in the same low tone that he uses in his office when rowdy pupils are sent to him for misbehaving. The steel in his voice far more intimidating than shouting. There had always been an authoritative air surrounding him that made only the most disobedient kids defy him. Connor wasn’t one of those kids, but still he doesn’t want to obey the command, stretching out his arms, the velvety texture of the deep red wallpaper soft under his fingers.

‘Please.’ Connor leans backwards, is pushed forwards.

The moaning comes again.

‘I want to go home now.’ Connor has changed his mind. He doesn’t want to be punished. He doesn’t want to see what is on the other side of the door.

Who is on the other side of the door.

He wants his mum. Tears bubble in his throat. Tears of sorrow and guilt and a longing to turn back the clock. He swallows and swallows but they keep rising.

Mr Marshall reaches past him and pushes the door open.

The world stops.

Connor is no longer aware of the hand on his shoulder, the breath against his cheek. Black speckles obscure the edges of his vision. He is looking through a telescope of fear, in its centre one perfect round image and it’s all Connor can see in the room.

Her.

Hailey.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Lucy

Am I doing the right thing?

My shoulders scream in pain as I pull the wrench to tighten the wheel nuts. Swollen clouds scud across a slate sky. Rain slaps against my face. I’m sweating. Shivering. Hot and cold.

I bundle the jack back in the boot. Kieron stirs again as I open the door and slip into the car.

Hurry.

I feel so lost.

So scared.

So completely out of my depth.

Am I doing the right thing?

I try to call Aidan, I need him. I can’t do this alone.

I just can’t.

This time it’s him who doesn’t answer.

Hurry.

I turn the key in the ignition.

I cannot wait.

I have to save my son.

Am I doing the right thing?

I’m not sure that I am.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Connor

The dining room no longer houses a table and chairs, instead a hospital bed with a solitary seat beside it – waiting for a visitor who never comes.

Him.

Connor stands still.

Sad.

Ashamed. It is painful to look Hailey in the eye but he knows he must face her. Face what he has done.

He is suffocating. It’s stifling. An electric heater plugged in next to the gas radiator.

‘We have to keep it warm,’ Mr Marshall says, noticing Connor wiping his forehead with his sleeve. ‘Hailey gets cold. You do when you can’t freely move around.’ His voice sounds bitter. Sad. Heartbroken. Angry. Everything Connor is and more. Rightfully so.

He takes a step towards her.

Another.